Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. I am not affiliated in any way, shape or form with anyone who does.
The motel room was too quiet. He'd turned the television on to try to drown out the silence but it hadn't helped. It felt like it was seeping into his skin, burrowing into his veins like poison. He reached into his school bag, pulling out a beer that he had hidden and took the top off, drinking some of it and managing not to spit it out like he had done in his first attempt. He swallowed his mouthful, regretting that the motel did not have so much as a mini-fridge when he heard footsteps outside. He stashed the beer back into his bag, wedging it in-between a book about the American Revolution and one about geometry so that it wouldn't spill and stain his work. He grabbed a dagger that lay near him and stood up from his chair, ready to attack if he needed to.
A few seconds later Dean and John burst in, huge smiles across their faces. Dean's shirt, brand new only the month before was now covered in blood and Sam felt his heart leap into his throat, "Dean? Are you hurt? What happened?" His voice came out childish with fear.
They both looked at him and laughed. "I'm fine. It's that demon that ain't."
John patted Dean on the shoulder, going over to the television and turning it off, giving a reproachful glance to Sam. "You shouldn't have it on that loud. You'll get the motel staff in here and they might find the weapons."
"Why couldn't I come as well?"
"You're not old enough," this time it was Dean who provided the answer. Every time that they came back from a hunt he was again excluded from he would be given the excuse that he was too young, but he had been hunting for years. Recently however he had been left at the motel room or in the car more and more.
"I'm fifteen."
"Not old enough." Dean was stripping off his shirt, picking another out of his bag while John looked in the meagre food supplies to find something to eat and Sam sat back down into the chair, trying to decide what the real reason that they didn't want him coming along was.
Whenever he thought about it he usually managed to narrow it down to three things; Dean was dad's favourite and he wasn't welcome in the family, he wasn't a good enough hunter and therefore a failure or he put too much emphasis on school work and this was his punishment.
"You done your homework?" He was surprised when Dean asked him and decided that this time it must have been the third option. He felt somewhat annoyed that he had in fact done all of his homework, wondering if he had left it and handed the various essays in late that he would be deemed worthy to join in the hunts that had almost become a nightly occurrence. It had been bad enough when Dean was in High School as well but now that he was nineteen he didn't have to worry about people noticing him missing school and had chosen to leave, at least doubling the amount of nights he and John went missing.
"Yeah, I did them."
"Good."
John had found himself something to eat and threw tins at Dean and Sam to make their own food. He settled himself onto one of the beds and began to eat. Sam stood up, grabbing onto his bag as he headed away from them in the direction of the bathroom.
Dean laughed, already opening his can; "you do your homework in the bathroom now?"
Sam looked down to his bag and what Dean expected to be in there; "yeah. Its quieter, helps me to relax."
Dean shrugged and Sam walked into the bathroom, sitting down and drinking the rest of the bottle, feeling the warmth of the alcohol spreading throughout his body, making him feel as though he wasn't completely empty.